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The walls as well as the shelves are covered in framed photographs. Aside from the overall expensive house and camera equipment, Marcus’ adopted father spends probably a fortune on printing and framing. Ithaqua snickers a bit as he looks at one of a scruffy child being held in a bath by a tall young man with long blond hair whose shirt is soaking wet. Bathing a kitten, so to speak. Ithaqua at the date this was taken, was probably the same, being forced by his mother into water.
“He was such a cute child, wasn’t he?” Joseph muses, appearing out of nowhere right behind him. Ithaqua jumps and nervously laughs. Is it gay if he calls his best friend/roommate cute when he was a child? He makes no coherent response, because the crush he has on his dad is concerning, but it’s been months of denial, bargaining, anger, sadness, and now he’s decided to accept it at last, and also, he would never admit it to Marcus himself. The older man tilts his head to the side, his long hair spilling across his tall shoulder. “You’re a very cute child too, Ithaqua. Would you like to come play a game with me? In my room.”
He nods after gaping stupidly for about a few seconds, hard enough the ears on his hoodie flops over his face. With a light laugh that twists his stomach, Joseph pushes them back over his hood and pokes his cheek. “Take my hand, baby. You might get lost.” His house isn’t that big… well, it is an old manor. Ithaqua briefly wondered where he might find Marcus’ old room on the drive there, and was left a little speechless when the driver stopped before the estate. Unfair! He never invited him over for a sleepover. Nevertheless, now he’s getting a private tour from his father, whose hands are in meticulous condition, long, slender fingers with one large ruby on one finger, not the ring finger, which definitely gives him a chance– and baby? Oh, he's going to humiliate his poor roommate. “There you go, what a good boy you are. We’ll have so much fun.”
Ithaqua nods. Who in his place would say no? Who in his place would muster more than wide eyes and pink cheeks and a shaky hold in his hand? Joseph is the one holding his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. To be honest he did have a few fantasies of being the one to romantically pull this beautiful man away into a room and push him down or whatnot, but clearly, that’s not happening, which is just fine as well. He glances down at his white pants– his thighs are even, and they look strong… maybe… he looks up quickly before he can be caught in the act. He’s excited, very much so, there’s even a little burning between his own legs. It’s been a bit like that since he met the man, visiting his roommate and bringing boxes and boxes of food and clothes and random gifts that Ithaqua was allowed to have.
Joseph picks him up without warning. His face betrays no expression, the same smile, wider now and reaching his narrow eyes as he holds up his entire weight from his waist and from under his seat. Ithaqua makes some babbling noises– “Hello?! Sir…!”
“You’re so small, my dear, I can’t resist!” Joseph laughs again and puts his face in the crook of his neck and takes a deep inhale. “Your soap is not bad, although, perhaps a bit grown up for this little boy?” It’s just the men’s shower gel with the same scent as cologne that’s sold everywhere… and besides!
“I’m not a little boy…” He grumbles, his face very warm now. “I’m almost twenty-five, Joseph.” His carefully built pride might just crumble by the end of today, he realizes. Is this humiliation worth it for his virginity being taken by someone like this? His best friend’s father? Hmm. He considers this as Joseph carries him inside the opulent bedroom one would only see in movies, and then through to the bathroom connected to it, which is equally bedecked with gilded decor and huge furniture. “Uh, what are we gonna do in here?”
Joseph sets him down on a high stool next to the spacious bath tub. Maybe he is into doing it in the bathroom? His ears heat up now. Joseph removes his waistcoat, rolls up his sleeves. His lightly tanned hands are not too different from his pale forearms, but definitely from the bandages wrapped around them. The water begins to run. Before he can voice anything on his hazy, acutely distracted mind right now as the man deftly unbuttons the top few buttons of his own silk shirt, those hands are already on him. Undressing him, Ithaqua grabs onto his shoulders, his hair catching between his fingers. Heated! Heavy breathing, a kiss on his cheek–
Well, he’s just removed his clothes. There’s not much else he does despite Ithaqua’s great expectations. He bites his lip, shamefully covering what he deems to be most embarrassing, which includes his face. As Joseph has pulled away and is checking the temperature of the water.
“Don’t you want me to help you with that?” He manages out, trying not to let his pride be too wounded. “You can’t just leave me here… perv.”
Joseph turns back to him with a chuckle. With wet hands, he cups his face and rewards him with another kiss on the forehead. He’d expected the lips, but that would be too intimate on this third or so date(?), to Joseph at least. He is classy, and embodies a nobleman of the contemporary world. So he’ll deal with it, even if it’s awkward, at least he won’t have to be further flustered and potentially embarrass himself with his inexperienced reactions. Joseph lifts him up again, carries him into the bathtub as he squirms. Oddly, he is reminded of his mother. She would always carry him in and out of the bath until he was old enough to bathe on his own and not drown like a little idiot. Although it almost happened the one time he fell asleep while soaking…
…
Nothing happened in the bathtub, and Ithaqua was just cleaned very thoroughly. It was embarrassing. What’s more embarrassing is that now he’s wearing a fresh pair of pajamas. Is this what Joseph is into? If it is, then he is really considering making a run for it and jumping out of the window to run back home and tell Marcus his dad is an utter freak. It’s a frilly white cotton nightgown. A nightgown! He protested, but Joseph all but forced him into it. Now he’s just uncomfortable.
Well, he is pretty comfortable physically. Joseph’s thighs are not as hard as they looked, and his embrace is warm on his clean and dry skin.
“Good boy… you did everything papa told you to do, didn’t you?” He croons, his hand running through his hair again and again, so gently and so skilled in the act too. His other hand rests innocently on his thigh, holding him on his legs. And he’s not even hard… which might be the worst part, considering all his teenage boy-esque fantasies the entire day since Joseph invited him over. Oh, there’s even more of those, but now they are crumbling and being replaced with stupidly soft and fluffy memories conflating with the present as well as his brain conjuring up an image of himself with a pacifier in his mouth and a baby cap. It’s terrible. Good thing he isn’t the type to cry from frustration. “Hehe, you look so cute, pouting like that.”
“I’m not…”
Joseph just pokes his cheek and with an uncharacteristically cheerful noise, nuzzles their faces together. Huh!! “Wait, Joseph! Come on, let me go…”
The older man actually pouts. This is the worst. “Baby, you promised to play with me.” He shakes his head, moving long strands of hair out of his face. “After that, I promised to give you anything you want… do anything you want… or did you forget?”
His mocking tone is irritating. Ithaqua almost wants to lash out, but honestly, whatever. He’s sleepy. He just nods, frowning deeply. Which makes the man happy enough to go ‘yay’, which is also very uncharacteristic. Marcus’ father is creeping him out. How did he even tolerate this man growing up? Maybe because he is generationally wealthy and gorgeous to look at? He would have bought any game and in game cosmetic for him… hm, not a bad deal.
“Now now, don’t go to sleep yet, my baby.” Joseph reaches to the night stand to retrieve something that he can’t see. And he doesn’t really want to move, the nightgown is embarrassing and his hair is especially fluffy right now. The huge mirror in the bedroom, which only a psychopath would sleep comfortably with, reflects the pink on his cheeks. He looks like a tall baby, to be honest, when Joseph is this much taller, he could pass for a tall child. Ewugh. “If you nap without your milk, you’ll get cranky!”
Milk? He opens his mouth to say something, and then Joseph thrusts something between his teeth and firmly keeps it there. Despite his gentle, handsome expression, his hooded eyes and the way he really is sounding like a parent of sorts, his grip is insistent. Ithaqua flushes crimson and bites the rubber for a bit.
“Come on, my dear…” That sad expression again! It’s a bit effective, as well as absurd. Ithaqua whines pathetically. He is twenty two years too old for this, he communicates with his big eyes. Joseph tilts his head to the side, gives him the most convincing appearance of heartbreak. Agh, it’s not like this is actually his mother! His mother had long red hair and green eyes, and a soft, beautiful face, seldom wearing white. And she wouldn’t have pushed a baby bottle into his mouth when he is twenty four! Well, knowing Lagertha, she might tease him with it, but only as a joke. “What is papa doing wrong?”
Ithaqua closes his eyes tightly. Okay, maybe he does cry from frustration sometimes.
“Shh, shh, my precious baby. Don’t cry.”
He sings, caressing his hair. It has been so thoroughly groomed and feels softer than his own hair should feel. Joseph keeps the bottle where it is, but moves his long fingers to stroke his cheek as well. Whatever lotion he used, it’s also incredibly effective. When Ithaqua opens his eyes, trying to swallow back tears and some other extreme reaction of embarrassment, Joseph looks genuinely remorseful. Maybe… maybe he has some sort of tragic backstory to go with this strange fixation. Marcus is his adopted son after all, maybe the white haired woman in the pictures was his wife and they never managed to have a child of their own, or their baby died tragically with her, or something…
Ithaqua remembers his mother, who had never had a child of her own but took Ithaqua in from a soggy box in the rain and raised him from a tiny infant into a lanky, strong boy. Well, if this man whose golden hair is already streaked with a few silver rivulets is that stricken by grief, perhaps even recently, then he’ll endure this… for just a little bit. The crush he has on him is irrelevant. He is doing this for his sake. Maybe he’s drunk or high or something. His irises are abnormally large, taking up his whole eye, making him appear like an alien, after all. God, he regrets everything. Hopefully, the sex will make up for it. Or not! In that case, he’ll settle with a new gaming computer.
“There you go, what a good boy!” Joseph beams down at him. He looks so happy. Ithaqua’s shame dissipates by a fraction of an inch. He’s made him so happy, by stepping on his pride and sucking on a fucking baby bottle. Perhaps this is the love for his neighbor his brother preaches about. Through self sacrifice, he can reach… something. The man begins to move– rocking him gently back and forth, humming under his breath. “Papa is so happy now~”
Ugh… he will drift off now. He hopes he wakes up at home as he’s lulled to sleep by a familiar tune and a familiar warmth protecting his body. Long after that embrace has disappeared from his life, leaving a cold draft that the hum of his computer can barely fulfill, only distract him from, in this strange place he finds it again. With his eyes closed, his body relaxing and mind slipping away…
His mother rocks him to sleep, brushing her soft hand over his forehead again and again. She sings gently, and she tucks his feet underneath warm blankets, and he clings to her shirt so that she won’t tuck him into bed. He wants to stay in her lap, forever. Distantly, he can hear his redheaded family talk in hushed voices.
“Shh, he’s sleeping.” Hvittungl murmurs in the corridor. “Can we talk later?” As always, his cousin sounds serene and gentle.
“Is that Ithaqua…?” Utgardar says, though he’s barely whispering and sounds rather shocked. “Why is he here…”
“Come on, can we talk later?”
“I don’t want to talk about this at all…”
“Marcus, send that picture to me.”
Marcus?!
Ithaqua’s eyes widen and he jerks awake. The childhood home of wood and floral wallpaper vanishes, replaced by a too spacious room. He coughs and milk sputters out of his mouth. And then, staring at his roommate standing in the doorway with an unreadable expression, he remembers everything. He is twenty-four years old, not a little boy anymore, and he seriously cannot get any redder. Joseph is still cradling him! How long was he asleep?! Why is he here?! Doesn’t he have a job…?
“It’s Sunday.” Marcus offers, putting his phone in his pocket. “I thought I could pick you up as well as a few things from here… but I guess not…?”
He buries his face in Joseph’s chest. There are no actions to save his pride, except maybe push his roommate down the stairs of his father’s manor, and then change his name and run away abroad forever. “Sir, make him go away…”
Joseph, without changing tempo, pets the back of his head reassuringly. “Of course, my baby. Papa won’t let him bully you~”